


In the Flickering Light of Hope

by DistractedDream



Series: DistractedDream's Zine Fics [7]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Cosmogony Zine (Final Fantasy XV), Original Character(s), Starscourge (Final Fantasy XV), pre-game
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-18
Updated: 2021-01-18
Packaged: 2021-03-16 04:21:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,470
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28825140
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DistractedDream/pseuds/DistractedDream
Summary: The Starscourge that befell the land of Eos recognized no species, no boundaries, no age, no class, taking all within its grasp. Screams of the tortured, human and animal alike, filled the dark places of the world. Peace would only come with the release of the inflicted, but mankind is not so amenable to giving up its loved ones. And so, something had to be done.Before the days of kings and oracles, healers walked the roads, promising relief, offering hope, an end to this terrible plague. Realists followed behind, intent on saving their own towns, their own families, by stopping the Scourge where it had taken root. Disgraced healers, emotionless realists, each brought sorrow in the dust on their shoes.Sometimes, the treatment is worse than the disease.Written for the FFXV Cosmogony Zine
Series: DistractedDream's Zine Fics [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1722808
Comments: 4
Kudos: 4





	In the Flickering Light of Hope

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this in Spring 2019 for the Cosmogony Zine. I was given the Starscourge Era (very, very pre-game) and this is the first thing I've done with original characters. Needless to say, I delayed posting it even beyond my normal personal post-zine-release delay. Not sure there's an audience for it, given that it's OCs and pre-game lore, but here you go!
> 
> Thanks to GalacticGlaze for beta-reading!
> 
> Comments and kudos are much appreciated and keep me writing! I can be found on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/distractedream) at Distractedream and [Tumblr](https://distracteddream.tumblr.com/), [Instagram](https://www.instagram.com/distracteddream/), and [Spotify](https://open.spotify.com/user/distracteddream?si=_Yuds57lRve_hXzKrEF05Q) at DistractedDream. Enjoy!

_ The Starscourge that befell the land of Eos recognized no species, no boundaries, no age, no class, taking all within its grasp. Screams of the tortured, human and animal alike, filled the dark places of the world. Peace would only come with the release of the inflicted, but mankind is not so amenable to giving up its loved ones. And so, something had to be done. _

_ Before the days of kings and oracles, healers walked the roads, promising relief, offering hope, an end to this terrible plague. Realists followed behind, intent on saving their own towns, their own families, by stopping the Scourge where it had taken root. Disgraced healers, emotionless realists, each brought sorrow in the dust on their shoes. _

_ Sometimes, the treatment is worse than the disease. _

The healer collapsed in the shade of the trees lining the road, dropping his pack beside him. His body ached down to his bones, his sandals felt like little more than leaves under his soles, his clothes coated in dust and filth, and he longed for nothing more than a respite and, perhaps, a bath. He closed his eyes, head tipped up to the filtered sunlight streaming through the branches above, and rubbed at his breastbone. Of all his aching, it was his soul that suffered the worst. The healer tried. All healers tried, or so he had to hope, yet this plague upon their land was unabated. They fought against it, relieved suffering where they could, but there simply were not enough healers, not enough magic to push back against an inhuman foe that grew stronger every nightfall. Even now, the dark corners of the world were filled with stories where the Starscourge never left, no sunlight reaching into caverns, caves, nor mountain gloom, to kill the shadows. It was wearying, down to bone and soul, yet the healer refused to give up. The hope in his heart proved harder to kill than the Scourge itself. If he could only but rest a moment…

“Sanare! Sanare!”

The healer lifted his head, blinking against the light at the sight of a young boy running towards him. With a tired sigh, Sanare pushed himself to his feet, brushing at the dirt on his clothing as though it would make any difference, and collected his pack. He knew. Before the boy reached him, before the boy said more than his name, Sanare knew what he would want. He would hear him out all the same. The boy stopped, bent over and panting. The healer offered refreshment from his waterskin. “Yes? How may I help?”

“Sa… Sanare,” the boy panted, taking a long drink. Sanare frowned at he watched his waterskin empty and hoped where the boy led them would have a clean well. “My mama… she…” He straightened, wiping his eyes. “The Scourge has her. You must help!”

He’d known. Another soul infected, another needing to be healed, his own need for rest be damned. “Of course. Take me to her.” Sanare gestured for the boy to guide him. “How many nights has she been afflicted? Is she the only one?” Many times, Sanare arrived at a village to help one infected to find half the people there screaming in agony. He was not sure he would have the energy to heal many this time. Perhaps it would be best if he sent the boy to find another healer.

An insistent tug on his sleeve had him refocusing on the boy. “A week. I think. It’s just mama. It’s only us. Please. Please, you have to help!”

“Hush, child.” Sanare rested his palm on the boy’s head. A week… Most infected would have been dead within a week. The boy must have been confused. It wouldn’t have been the first time grief and worry had clouded a memory. “I will do what I can.”

They could hear the woman’s screams before the house came into view, a horrible screeching filling the air that had the boy covering his ears, cowering behind the healer. Sanare no longer wavered when faced with the noise and the shadows. The time for fear had passed when he saw his family succumb to the Scourge when he was no older than the young boy behind him. He paused at the door, turning and lowering to his haunches to address the boy. “You must be brave and you must stay out here. No matter what you hear, you must be brave for your mama, yes?” The boy reluctantly pulled his hands from his ears and squared his small shoulders with a nod. “Good lad.” With a reassuring pat, Sanare stood and entered the home.

He was used to the noise, the pained, enraged, ragged screaming of the soul fighting against the darkness. The smell, though, he doubted he would ever be used to that, his stomach roiling at the stench of decay and a slimy blackness defying any other odor he’d experienced. He did not cover his nose and mouth though; weakness, any weakness, was a chance for failure.

Sanare knelt beside the pallet to examine the woman. Darkness streamed like tears from her eyes, like drool from her mouth. Her body jerked with her screams, limbs twisted into painful shapes as the Scourge tried to remake her into its own likeness. “Hush now,” Sanare commanded for all the good it would do. “Your son hears you. You would not want him to worry, would you?”

The woman thrashed all the harder, voice breaking as she screamed herself raw. Sanare opened his pack, the smell of herbs and spices doing little to cover the smell of the Starscourge. “Such a ruckus. Are you not done yet?” He selected a jar filled with camphor, laudanum, and alstroom, the paste-like mixture pungent as he dipped his fingers into it. “Rest.” Sanare smeared the poultice on the woman’s forehead, her eyelids, her mouth. “Rest,” he ordered again, the woman’s screams quietening as he applied the medicine to her ears and throat. He captured her hands, applying it to her wrists. “Be gone. This woman is a child of the light. Be gone. Crawl back to your dark places, to your creatures of shadow. Leave this one alone. She is not for you.” Sanare coated his palm and, with a steady hand, he pressed it over the woman’s heart. “Be gone. Now.”

As she collapsed back onto the bed, the Starscourge leaked from the woman, dripping onto the dirt floor below. Sanare didn’t so much as twitch his toes away from the growing puddle, eyes narrowed as it coalesced, the blackness writhing as though searching for a new victim. Calmly, Sanare stood, crossing the room to the fire pit, stoking the embers until the fire came to life, filling the home with warm light. A screech filled the air, rattling the door, the Scourge retreating from the light, sinking back into the ground, disappearing from sight. In its absence, the sounds of the woman’s even breathing and the fire burning were heard. The Starscourge had been purged.

Sanare opened the door to find the boy crouched in the dirt, tears streaking his face. “It is done. Come inside and see your mother.” The boy rushed in, clinging to his mother, waking her. Sanare collected his pack and left them to their reunion. He tipped his face to the sunlight. The healing was easier than he feared. It was strange; he’d had more complicated healings for those who had been infected for much less time than this one. He wasn’t afforded the time to ponder it as a small body slammed into his back, arms wrapped around his waist.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you.”

The healer smiled, dislodging himself from the boy’s hold. “You are welcome. Your mother will heal completely in a few days. Keep the fire burning and keep her in the light. I will try to return to check on her. What is your name, little one?”

The boy wiped grateful tears from his eyes, lifting his chin. “Spero. My mama calls me Spero.”

“Spero.” The healer smiled, digging into his pack to pull a satchel of herbs free, handing it to the boy. “Have your mother mix this with hot water and drink it twice a day. It will restore her strength. Will you do this for me?” The boy nodded with a grin. “Good boy. All is well now.” Sanare rose, adjusting his pack over his shoulder, eyes already on the long road ahead. “Bahamut keep you and your mother in His light.”

Sanare had begun to accept that he would never not be weary, head hung low against the sun’s light. It was simply his lot to never stop, to only allow himself enough time to recharge before moving onward. Perhaps he would be able to rest soon. And perhaps they were making inroads in their battle against the Starscourge, though in his darkest moments, he doubted it. In time, his path had led him back to the home of Spero and his mother and he almost looked forward to seeing the boy’s bright smile. He had not been able to return as quickly as he’d hoped, but a few extra weeks could not be helped.

A scent drifted in the air, smoke and somewhat more, something that made his gut twist in dread. He lifted his head, eyes searching. Smog hung thick in the air ahead, obscuring where he should have been able to spy the little home by the road. Holding his pack tighter, Sanare picked up his feet, racing down the road into the smoke.

He had to cover his face as he approached his memory of where the house should be, a choking haze trying to fill his eyes and lungs. What had once been the home sat at the center of the smoke, flames still licking what remained of the formerly white walls. He whipped around, a scream piercing through him from behind, a breeze blowing the smoke clear, and he wished for a moment that he had not seen.

The body of Spero’s mother lay behind him, little more than bones and ash, pierced to the ground with a blade. A figure approached the remains, a soldier who wrenched his sword free and wiped it on the ground. In his other hand, held fast by the collar, was Spero, screaming his horror and agony.

Sanare strode forward, too late for the boy’s mother but determined to protect Spero. “Let him go, Compacavi. The boy was never infected.”

Compacavi shook his head. “You know how it is. Once one is infected, they all are.”

“Stop!” Sanare held his hands out, appealing. “I healed her! The Scourge was purged. The boy is clean and so was his mother!”

“Was she? Are you so certain?” Compacavi shook Spero, glancing down at the boy with cold eyes. “What about you? Tell the truth now.” 

With a screech, Spero attempted to fight free of the soldier, black leaching from his eyes and mouth. Sanare recoiled. Never had he known the Scourge to return once banished. “Let me go! Let me go!” He twisted, reaching for Sanare. “You promised! You said Mama was healed! You lied! Liar! False healer!” His hands clawed, scrabbling at the air, attempting to get to Sanare, to hurt him, his Scourge-influenced rage tearing from his throat.

Compacavi held Spero in place, unaffected by the flailing boy. “Do you see? You think you drive the darkness away while it merely bides its time for the next poor soul to infect. The only solution is to kill it before it takes root.” Compacavi gripped the boy tighter, lifting his sword, the metal glinting in the flames.

“NO!” Sanare screamed for naught. Compacavi’s blade mercilessly cut across Spero’s throat, as though the boy was no more than another lamb to be slaughtered, the boy’s body going silent and limp, purple blood spraying from the wound. Sanare crumpled to his knees, hopelessness creeping in insidiously. He could have purged the boy. He could have saved him, healed him, taken Spero with him if it had truly been too late for his mother. If only he’d come sooner. Despair choked him, clenching his jaw against his tears for the loss of another innocent. Sanare refused to give the soldier the satisfaction of seeing him cry.

Compacavi slung Spero’s drained body on top of the ashes of his mother. “Would you like to do the honors?” Sanare glared red-rimmed eyes at him. “No? Can’t finish the job after all, hm?” Compacavi pulled a bottle from his pocket, dropping it on the ground next to Spero’s body. Fira shot free as the bottle shattered, flames covering the deceased. “Give up this ridiculous dream, Sanare. You look like one of your patients. Half dead.” Compacavi held his blade to the flame, burning away the infected blood. “Join me and make a real difference.” Sanare refused to answer, eyes locked on the beckoning flames as they consumed Spero’s form. Compacavi sighed, sheathing his sword. “Ah well then. For your sake, I hope I don’t find you among the infected.” He started to walk away, pausing to glance over his shoulder at the healer, still kneeling in the dirt. “Despite what you might believe, I don’t find joy in what I must do. I do it because I must, because the Scourge needs to be purged. To save Eos, I would burn as many villages as needed.”

Sanare’s tone was hushed yet firm, not so much as flicking his eyes Compacavi’s way. “To save Eos, I would heal as many villages as needed.”

“Our methods differ, but the goal is the same. Here.” Compacavi unhooked his waterskin from his belt, tossing it to Sanare. “You never have water on you.” He waited, some perverse need to have Sanare acknowledge him again, some foreboding dread that this may be the last they see of each other. When none came, Compacavi blew out a disappointed breath. “Bahamut guard and keep you safe until we meet again, healer.”

Sanare sat in the road until the flames died, until not even embers glowed in the falling twilight. Compacavi was wrong. The way to make Eos whole again wasn’t through fire; it was through healing. He had to believe that. He had to work for that. Sanare swallowed, his throat burning, glancing at the waterskin the soldier had left. He had to keep going, no matter how tired he was. He had to fight the despair as he fought against the Scourge. Sanare picked up the waterskin and pushed to his feet. He would keep going until he couldn’t any longer. The darkness wouldn’t win. He wouldn’t let it. Sanare wouldn’t give in to defeat. Not yet.

The Starscourge hadn’t destroyed him or his hope.

Not yet.


End file.
